Days Like These
by capsiclerogers
Summary: There are days like these where you're just grateful that you're alive. Days where you're with your best friend, and you feel like the luckiest person in the world. Today was one of those days. ONE-SHOT Kames friendship.


**Hi, guys!  
>So writer's block strikes again, and I felt I owed you at least <em>something<em>.  
>And I was like, "Okay, why not a one-shot?"<br>It's not smutty or... slash-y... sorry guys.  
><strong>**So yeah, enjoy. I actually didn't like how it turned out as much as I would've liked to.  
>This was a random idea, and I felt like this was too short.<br>Anyway sorry! Read on my friend. :3**

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><p>There are days where you're just grateful that you're alive. Days where you're with your best friend, and you feel like the luckiest person in the world. Today was one of those days.<p>

My friends and family had always known I had a thing for music. But only James knew that I _loved_ old music. I mean, sixties through nineties, I guess, so "old music" is a pretty loose term. We shared a passion for that. He loved 80's pop, and I didn't mind it. It was a huge improvement over the trash we called music these days. But what I really found amazing was 80's and 90's rock. I especially loved the Smiths.

But really, this doesn't really correspond to what my main point was, so let me get that across. Today was our tenth friendaversary. It probably sounds lame to you, but judge us all you want. Our tradition was we give each other presents on that day. Let me tell you I've never been disappointed. Not even once. And I hope to dear God I've never disappointed James either, or else I don't know what I would've done. There's really a reason as to why James is my best friend.

Anyway, today, he gave me a vinyl turntable. You remember those, right? It was still in excellent condition, and he found it in a local vintage music shop. He had to fight for it, he said. I've never been more impressed by him. It was perfect. Coincidentally, my grandpa gave me a few vinyl records from back in his days before his death, and I gave the Madonna one to James. Sure, he didn't have a turntable, but it was signed by Madonna herself. I'm not sure how my grandpa would've reacted, considering he worked his butt off to meet her, but I knew how much it would've meant to James. And I was right.

"Wow, are you seriously giving me this?" he gasped, staring at me with his bright hazel eyes. "This is signed by the queen herself!"

"Of course. Happy friendaversary, buddy," I replied, smiling and pushing it into his hands.

We laughed for what seemed like hours, finding amusement in the similarities between our gifts.

"Great minds think alike," the brunette joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

I was attacked by fits of laughter and I rolled my eyes.

"Let's go test it out," he finally suggested, getting up from the floor to set the record player up.

Don't ask me how it works, because I still haven't discovered how James set it up. Speaking of which, I should probably give him a call.

Minutes later, Madonna's "Papa Don't Preach" filled the air in my bedroom, along with a giggling James.

"This is unbelievably amazing," I breathed, shaking my head. "A vinyl turntable. Diamond, this must've cost a fortune."

He spun around and sat down on the carpeted floor again and shrugged. "Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. But you like it, right?"

"No," I admitted.

James shot me a quizzical look.

"I love it," I finished, grinning. I felt pretty satisfied that he fell for it.

He huffed and shook his head, fighting the smile that threatened to form on his face.

And we just sat there for hours until all the tracks on that Madonna record had played. I took out the rest of my grandpa's collection and handed them to my pretty friend so he could set it up. Like I said, I still have no clue how.

I have to confess, the next few hours of my life were pretty sappy. I blamed the music for making me into this happy and care-free soul, but James just said I was stubborn, that I didn't like to admit things I'm not comfortable with. And he's probably right even if I don't want him to be. Hm, I guess I am just stubborn like that.

"James, do you remember that day we met?" I sighed, thinking to myself.

"Of course. We were ten, weren't we?" James responded, smiling a bit from the memory. "And that mean kid kicked me because my hair was fantastic."

I chuckled lightly and shoved his shoulder playfully. "Your hair _was_ fantastic."

"You bet it was."

I looked at him, about to break into laughter.

"And then you, being the stupid little suicidal kid you were, decided to stand up for me. Even though that guy was at least two heads taller than you and three average kids fatter than you."

"Yeah, I got beat up pretty badly that day," I muttered.

"You did, but that's how we became friends. You swore you'd always protect me. Though now, I'm 6'2" and you're only 5'11" huh, small cakes?"

I mocked laughter and stuck my tongue out at him. We were both sitting on the floor, back resting against the side of my bed as the Pink Floyd record spun round and round.

"I'm glad I call you my best friend," I suddenly said, interrupting the comfortable silence.

"Well me too, Kendall."

He looked at me and smiled a warm smile.

"But I'm serious. I really am. No one quite understands me like you do, and I feel like you would never judge me."

"I am judging your hair right now. It's too blonde," he teased, ruffling my hair. "We can't be friends anymore."

I rolled my eyes once again and snickered. "I'm trying to be _serious_, Jamesy."

"You know serious isn't a great look on you."

"Lies. Everything looks great on me and you know it," I scoffed, feigning arrogance and flipping my invisible long locks over my shoulder.

James cracked up, doubling over in laughter. "That's really funny, Kendall. Now look at me, back in the mirror, then back at me. Sadly, you're not me. But you can smell like me."

"Ew!" I groaned, pinching my nose. "Who wants to smell like James?"

He started to tickle my sides. "Take that back you little punk! I smell amazing."

I roared with laughter as I tried to pry my friend's hands off of me. I wiped away my tears, the smile never leaving my face. That was really it though. We just sat there talking about trivial and irrelevant things as the music played in the background, like nothing even mattered. It was our tenth frendaversary and it was perfect.

There are days where you're just grateful that you're alive. Days where you're with your best friend, and you feel like the luckiest person in the world. Today was one of those days.

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><p><strong>So how was that?<br>I've never written a friendship story before, so I hope this was okay.  
>I think spending too much time on Tumblr brings out the hipster in me, LOL.<br>Reviews are GREATLY appreciated for this, since I'd like to know how you guys think of me writing this way. I usually don't, and I'm all in for trying new things. **


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